


Duty

by Sigmund



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, battle ready d'Artagnan, skirmish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2452313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigmund/pseuds/Sigmund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The King decides to leave Paris on a state visit and finds trouble which leads d'Artagnan to be his protector.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There will be two distinct parts to this story. Part 1 is completed and with a little patience and focus I will have part 2 finished in a timely manner. Thank you so much to all the people who give kudos to my other stories-- this is truly the only way I can thank you. All mistakes are mine. And yes, if you have seen Snow Piercer then you should recognize a certain scene. (I kept seeing the movie on planes)

The reigning monarch rarely left Paris due to fears of assassination, but with the Queen safe in Paris, pregnant with an heir it seemed like the time for Louis to make a visit to other parts of France. Nobility needed to know that their King was their sovereign. Taxes must be paid, order kept.

 

Louis decided he longed for Anjou and the Count d'Anjou, Jacques planned a fete in his honor. Two musketeers had been placed at each entrance to the banquet hall, others mingled about while more surrounded the Count's estate. The home was recently finished with marble and paintings from the masters of France and Italy. The king was admiring to the point of coveting the duc's belongings.

 

All the musketeers were on edge, victim to the King's whims. They had to be ready at all times. Treville overseeing it all to make sure the musketeers were well rested, fed and performed their duties to the best of their abilities.

 

d'Artagnan and Aramis were together at one door, while Porthos was paired with another musketeer at another door to the banquet hall. Athos was walking through the room on reconnaissance for any problems. The room was currently only arranged for the evening repast. After the meal there would be dancing in the salon until the king decided to retire.

 

In the banquet hall there were tapestries and silver pieces, but Aramis had discovered that the duc had made many last minute purchases to please the king. d'Artagnan tried not to think about the fact the money would come from the coffers of local taxes.

 

Athos nodded to them as he settled back to stand between both entrances. The clinching of fine china and crystal and general conversation plus the warmth generated in the room made a lethargy fall over the young musketeer. He fidgeted to keep alert.

 

"Raiders have breached!"

 

Women screamed escalating a general panic amongst all those in attendance. Some stood up, turned right then left, but at a loss on their next actions. The musketeers tried to reach their king, but had to defend themselves from the assassins along with the crush of scampering nobility.

 

"They hid in the cellars," someone called out over the clang of swords.   They could not use pistols because of the closeness of the guests pressing them to provide a defense.

 

An overdressed woman shrieked at d'Artagnan. He pushed her down the beads around her neck flying in the air due to the force before settling again as she went to the floor. "Get under the table!"

 

He lost sight of Aramis and Athos, but could see Porthos being attacked by two seeming giants. The fighting was heavier closer to the king who seemed to be using his high back chair for defense as his soldiers tried to keep him safe. d'Artagnan had to help with a slice to an attacker he mounted the long banquet table, running down its length kicking the half eaten plates of duck away. With a leap his feet left the table to tackle the man on the other side, pulling his main gauche to stab the man in the neck. It was not his best work, but the action was effective as the large man dropped, leaving only one for Porthos to dispatch.

 

Porthos lifted the monarch up; Louis brandished his rapier in front of him at the ready, but was manhandled towards d'Artagnan. "Get him to safety!"

 

"Your Majesty, hurry." d'Artagnan pulled the monarch. Athos and Treville had made them memorize the layout of the estate and its exits. His brothers opened a path. "To the horses." He kept the king to his side, dispatching those that got in his way.

 

At the stables he boosted the king onto the nearest saddled horse. The monarch was shaking, cheeks blushed a nervous red. "Sire, do you have the reins?"

 

With a nod as confirmation, d'Artagnan mounted an unsaddled horse. They needed to flee to protect the king. "Go before me and ride hard, your Majesty. All will be well."

 

Louis raced out, not looking back as d'Artagnan followed. He hoped their escape would be noticed too late, but an astute shooter found them, firing upon d'Artagnan as the musketeer narrowed the gap between him and the king.

 

Surprised the jolt did not force a scream out of him as the bullet struck him in the back, he slumped forward. The momentum almost slid him off the horse, but he regained his composure. As a musketeer he was sworn to defend the king with his life.

 

((()))

 

"What now? Do we go back?" The king turned his horse forcing the horse to strut in a half circle before settling.

 

Dealing with a panicking regent forced d'Artagnan to channel Athos. "I rather we find shelter elsewhere, Sire. There is a Baron's home nearby, I believe?"

 

"Baron Blois. He was in attendance." Louis confirmed while he pulled his shoulders back and stopped fidgeting.

 

There was an invisible wall of privacy between himself and his monarch. "Do you feel as if you can continue to ride, Your Majesty?"

 

"I believe so," the king replied, but did not look at his companion. Instead he looked out to the darkness, the shadow of trees and the looming pines with the arrogance of a conqueror.

 

Riding bareback for a long distance would be uncomfortable, along with the bullet wound that was made itself known after their escape. It was all pushed aside. "We should remain off the main road for now."

 

"Very well, d'Artagnan."

 

It was the first time Louis had acknowledged him, buoying his loyalty to serve this king.

 

With the night surrounding them it was slow going. d'Artagnan accepted the silence reluctantly because it made him keenly realize the bullet had gone into his upper back near his shoulder and not come out the other side. Throbbing hot sensation had spread down his back.

 

"You've done Captain Treville proud in defending your liege. I saw you take down that giant of a man."

 

A musketeer's job was to defend king and country, most never had the personal experience of one on one. He was humbled. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

 

The conversation pleased Louis. There was never silence around him, always someone or something that wanted his attention in the palace.   "Who were those men that attacked the fete in my honor?"

 

"I have no idea, Sire. I am sure the captain and the musketeers will deduce it." d'Artagnan hoped they also could understand where the king had gone.

 

Louis moved his horse closer to the other man. "You have faith in the musketeers."

 

Without his brothers he would have no one, serving the leader of France would not have been enough. "They're my family now." d'Artagnan had forgotten that the king's mother had led a coup against him, and although alive was not welcomed.

 

"I see." There was a long pause. "You are loyal, d'Artagnan."

 

He nodded in response, listened to the night sounds he could recognize and noticed the burning sensation had halted morphing into a numbness had surrounded the area where the bullet had entered his body. Surely, that was better. "Sire, are you cold?" The king was dressed in finery, not expecting to be outdoors, his long, wavy hair out of place without a hat and puffing the cold air. d'Artagnan used one hand to remove his cape, held it out to the monarch.

 

"Satin is not made for the elements." Louis accepted the woolen cape in the soft musketeer blue. "d'Artagnan, I believe I will never leave Paris again."

 

((()))

 

Under the candlelight of the Baron's chateau there was a moment when d'Artagnan saw how scared the king had been. Pale, trembling, the French monarch saw he was being studied. Louis removed the cape, went to place it on d'Artagnan's shoulder taken aback by the blood on the young musketeer's shoulder.

 

"You are injured. Call a physician," the king ordered. The servants who had been awakened bumbled a bit before pushing an older man to fetch a healer.

 

While d'Artagnan did want his wound tended, he also knew his responsibilities. "Sire, I will be tended to once I am relieved by other musketeers. I am to protect you."

 

"I believe I can override Captain Treville's orders. Bring a physician and show me to the Baron's rooms." The majordomo of the house bowed, then led the way up the wide stone staircase.

 

Truly, one could not argue with the king of France. "Yes, Your Majesty." d'Artagnan remained behind his leader.

 

((())))

 

Vidal strode into the room looking for Treville, his determined steps unheard in the sound of rooms being righted and guests being tended to, but no one stopped him. As the bandits had been killed or taken prisoner the musketeers who were not injured or dead were reporting to Treville for orders.

 

The captain had dealt with the wounded by moving them to rooms on the lower level.

 

Athos, Aramis and Porthos entered after clearing the manor and overheard Vidal's report. "Captain, the King and d'Artagnan escaped on horseback. We ensured they were not followed."

 

"Very good." Treville nodded at Vidal after he informed his superior of the direction d'Artagnan had taken the king. "Secure the perimeter and prepare the horses to leave at a moment's notice." The musketeer turned on his heel to follow his orders.

 

Athos stepped forward-their youngest and the king were missing after a skirmish which had them reeling in surprise. Usually, there was warning from France's network of spies, but they had been left learning about a dystopia- taxes too high and people hungry. "Where do you believe they went?"

 

"The homes nearby?" Porthos answered, but there was doubt in his voice

 

"I don't think d'Artagnan would take the king to the home of a commoner." Aramis seemed momentarily amused by the thought which showed small grin.

 

Athos crossed his arms. "The Baron Blois is a neighbor of Count of Anjou."

 

"We set out in the hour. See to your wounds and needs," Treville snapped before going to see to his other men and the noble guests accepting Athos's logic.

 

Athos took in the business around him in what had been the dining room. Food was congealing on the floor, blood needed to be clean while the injured were being tended. Chairs had been set back into place, those that were not beyond repair. Although the count had retired to his room with his wife, it was said that he was sobbing over the damage to his home, instead of crying over the distrust of his subject.

 

The party would disperse tomorrow with Treville cancelling the remaining festivities.

 

"You look worried."

 

Aramis's comment made him aware of how well his two brothers could read him at times. "I would rather ride out now."

 

"He handled himself well." Porthos gestured to the table, then to his neck. The bodies of the bandits had been moved outside to be burned. "Took down a man bigger than him with a blade to the neck-a good move."

 

Athos pressed his lips. It was difficult to explain his reasoning. "He's alone with the king."

 

"You do not want him to draw too much attention." Aramis lowered his voice, moved to a corner with a semblance of privacy, but they were still facing the others in the room in case their assistance was needed.

 

Porthos crossed his arms in a steady stance to not give ground. "d'Artagnan _is_ performing his duty."

 

"My worry for him is in regards to the proximity of our king." Louis was crafty, a politician accustomed to having his way, who had learned much under the Cardinal's tutelage.

 

"Niccolo Machiavelli. There is an image of an absolute ruler." Aramis bowed his head in understanding. "I'm going to help tend to some of the injured before we leave. I could use some help."

 

"Of course," Athos replied and was propelled forward by Porthos. Machiavelli warned not to be frightened in adversity, and as long as Louis showed no weakness to d'Artagnan then all would be well.

 

((()))

 

Instead of a physician, the servant brought the barely awake barber to tend to d'Artagnan. The young musketeer had excused himself from the king's presence, asking for a room nearby. Although he did not trust the man, he knew the wound had to be tended.

 

d'Artagnan straddled the chair with his shirt removed and wound exposed. He heard the clinking of tools, felt the metal touch his skin then saw white as pain enveloped him. Suddenly a feeling of nausea hit him as there was a stabbing sensation consuming his shoulder and upper body. "Just stop." He panted, swallowed whatever moisture was in his mouth in order to find his voice. Pulling away he repeated himself. "Stop."

 

The barber stepped away, turned so that d'Artagnan could see him. Flustered and red faced the barber sputtered, "but the king. . ."

 

"Wrap it up and you have tended to me." He would wait for the musketeers would arrive. Aramis would be with them for sure.

 

"And the coin? The surgeon was in his cups. The servant promised. . ."

 

d'Artagnan lifted his good arm to silence the pathetic man. A vision of what had transpired began to develop with him bearing the brunt of it. "You will be paid by the house." If they chose the man, then they could pay his fee. Pain brought about a loss of patience.

 

The barber was sent away paid for his silence and lack of work. Pulling a chair outside of the bedroom Louis had commandeered as his own d'Artagnan gave the French monarch privacy as water was sent up for bathing and food quickly prepared. Servants were scrutinized by the young musketeer before entering.

 

It was tempting to doze off as quietness descended in the house after the initial excitement of their arrival. The king had dismissed everyone as he longed for some rest. A relaxation entered d'Artagnan's limbs, which he shook out as the announcement was made that musketeers were at the gate.

 

A clattering entrance made by the horses over the cobblestones near the front of the house was then followed by the demanding sure steps of Treville with Athos, Aramis and Porthos behind him. d'Artagnan met them in the entry salon taking the steps slowly so not to fall flat in exhaustion by their feet.

 

"The king is well? Treville greeted the young musketeer by placing a hand on d'Artagnan's elbow, thankfully of his not injured shoulder. It was the captain's way of a job well done, but a reminder that the monarch came first.

 

"Yes. He is in the Baron's chambers." d'Artagnan gestured with a nod to the stairs.

 

"Get some rest." Treville marched up the stairs to check on the king.

 

His three brothers wore a look that was somewhere between reprimand and pride. A rewarding large grin from Porthos started the reaction from the others. "When I said to take care of the king, I didn't mean to take him through the countryside on an adventure."

 

"I didn't think hiding and waiting was an option," d'Artagnan answered with an aborted shrug that made him wince. Training in his mind dictated distance was necessary; Athos would correct him if his strategy was incorrect later.

 

Athos noticed, narrowed his eyes in scrutiny so that they pierced through d'Artagnan's cloak and doublet. "Are you injured?"

 

"My shoulder." d'Artagnan began to gesture towards the appendage, but his hand was caught as Aramis started to remove the younger man's cape. Athos turned on his heel, leaving them.

 

In the hallway Aramis continued his examination. d'Artagnan's doublet was worked open until the medic was satisfied with his access, pulling the loose shirt down to see the bandages. "Has it been tended?"

 

"Not exactly. The physician was a butcher so I sent him away." No need for a further explanation. Aramis would see the evidence soon enough.

 

"So the ball is still in there?'

 

Athos returned with the much beleaguered butler who was still not fully awake and unprepared for more unexpected guests. "What do you need, Aramis?"

 

The list included hot water, cooler water, strong spirits and bandages with a request for Porthos to fetch his saddles bag.

 

"I will return shortly after showing you to a room." The man paused for a moment looking up to the rooms of the baron in uncertainty. Some musketeers were of noble birth, but they served the king so usually were given soldier's quarters. Athos was losing his patience as the other musketeers could see with a scathing remark on his lips.

 

"Clean rooms are all we need," Aramis suggested, which seemed to bring the butler out of his daze to lead them towards rooms in the lower level near the servants' quarters.

 

A large open room with a hearth and two beds kept clean for servants of visitors or those who did not rank to higher level rooms. It was satisfactory.

 

"I will have the supplies sent along with ticking for more beds." The room could fit another two beds comfortably.

 

After seeing where the room was located Porthos went to the stables to collect their belongings, while Athos started the fire. d'Artagnan sat on the edge of one of the beds allowing Aramis to cut off the bandage.

 

The wound was jagged not the neat opening of the musket ball going into flesh it had been originally. Swelling had pinked the area, puffing it further along with the irritation caused by the hands of the other man who had tried to tend to it. "It is painful?"

 

d'Artagnan grunted in response as Aramis's cool hands poked at the injury. Although a numbness had settled in, probably not for long as it needed proper tending.

 

Porthos returned along with the butler and another of the baron's staff bringing in water and bandages. Athos thanked them and dismissed them.

 

Without being asked Porthos opened the bottle of liquor that had been brought in, handing it to d'Artagnan. "Drink up. Looks like you'll need it, but save some for the rest of us."

 

"And the wound," Aramis interjected.

 

The young musketeer wilted, his posture crumbling a bit before recovering as he fortified himself with the strong drink. Coughing after three pulls from the bottle seemed to be telling him to hand over the bottle to Aramis.

 

"It will be better if you lay down."

 

Nervously, he did as he was asked, knowing what was coming as Porthos and Athos grabbed his limbs to keep him in place.

 

Aramis applied the hot water first, cleaning with a rag before the first splash of the spirits hit the wound igniting the pain once more. The clink of Aramis's tools brought forth a nausea that d'Artagnan swallowed until it came upon him once more along with a fire consuming his body. He tried to get away, but was held fast.

 

Whining turned into panting then a cut off yell while d'Artagnan wished for oblivion to claim him. His body started shaking and he willed it to stop with no success, but it was the shaking that gave him enough of a push into darkness.

 

(())

 

Twilight was the time before one was actually awake. d'Artagnan lulled there in its comfort hearing snippets of conversation as he recognized Treville, Athos, Aramis and Porthos speak.

 

"The king has been asking after him."

 

"Can you postpone him?"

 

"Will he be ready to travel with us?"

 

"Perhaps it is better. . ."

 

d'Artagnan lost sense of the conversation, slipping away for a while before the lack of noise awoke him. He cleared his throat, hoping to catch someone's attention as he felt his friends would not abandon him until he was conscious.

 

"About time." Without asking Porthos had d'Artagnan sitting up. The younger man noticed the arm strapped close. A cup of water was brought to his lips, which he drank slowly until finished. Porthos kept him sitting for which he was grateful. "Athos and Aramis are with Treville. Most of the musketeers are here now, and soldiers from Paris have joined us to take the king back home."

 

His eyes looked around the room to see evidence that the three other men had been there. "When?"

 

"Two days unless the rain keeps up." Porthos adjusted the younger man so that he was using the wall to himself up, keeping it away from the injured side. "Do you want to eat something?"

 

It did not sound like a suggestion, more like an order to comply with for his own good. He would be unable to travel with them if he did not gain his strength back. There was a rush, a timetable of two days.

 

Sitting at the table after getting his feet under him, Porthos pushed broth, bread and stew in front of him. The broth and bread were easy to tolerate unlike the stew where he forced himself to take three bites before slid it away.

 

Porthos thankfully did not press d'Artagnan on his eating habits because Aramis and Athos entered the room, quieting down until they noticed the newest musketeer was awake.

 

"I told them you would wake soon. You look better," Aramis commented as he adjusted the blanket that Porthos had placed on d'Artagnan's shoulder.

 

"How do you feel?" Athos's scrutiny was difficult to bear.

 

d'Artagnan had to sound confident, not pleading. "I'll be ready to travel." He pulled the stew towards him in an attempt to have a few more bites to prove his point.

 

(())

 

Athos kept close to d'Artagnan sensing the king's attention was starting to become trying. Louis wanted to keep the younger man in sight and referred conversation to him instead of Treville. It was dangerous to be held in the king's esteem and warranting the monarch's attention. Especially in the circumstances d'Artagnan found himself.

 

There could be no warning that he could give d'Artagnan as it would be treason, and there was enough of that with Aramis. By being a buffer Athos thought he could help the situation. Treville understood, moving d'Artagnan away using the injury as an excuse for him unable to keep up a faster pace. When they got back to Paris, their captain would attempt to keep d'Artagnan away from the palace. King Louis did not have too long a memory.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King gives d'Artagnan an order he has to follow, which makes d'Artagnan and the others uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little stressful for me on this, but it is finished. I wanted to explore the King being manipulative going on with a Machiavellian theme with d'Artagnan being the pawn. Debbie F made some great comments and I hope i addressed them because they got me thinking. 
> 
> Thank you for kudos-- they are awesome and happy sentiments! Thank you for reading.

 

 

Treville had held the order for two days. The weight of it was heavy. It would change the course of the nation, and also showed that Louis had the Medici blood in his veins. His musketeer, d'Artagnan, caught in the middle by performing his duty to the King.

 

The young musketeer did not speak about the attack on the monarch or his part in Louis's defense past that of giving his report. However, Treville had learned more from the King about that fateful night.

 

In the Baron's bedroom, The King laid across the bed his face in a pillow muffling his speech.

 

"I was terrified that I would be killed, but d'Artagnan protected me. I think he knew I was afraid. . ."

 

"He was there to protect you, Your Highness, not judge you. He's a Musketeer."

 

"One who is nearer to my age then the others. . ."

 

At the time Treville thought the King would move on from his thoughts. Fear was not shown in battle when the king would be behind his troops at a safe distance in full armor. Gone were the days when national leaders fought with their men, except perhaps in the instance of Savoy.

 

One more issue the King had with his brother-in-law, which had led to this crossroads. The Duke fought in battles-one in particular sickening the Captain in its manipulation of him and his men.

 

Treville opened his door and called out to the nearest Musketeer, "Send d'Artagnan to my office when he arrives."

 

Athos, Aramis and Porthos had gone to the palace for duty while d'Artagnan was sent to deliver a missive nearby and was to join them later. Instead, it posed an opportunity for Treville to take the matter in hand.

 

He passed the time on the administrative tasks of garrison until a knock announced his expected guest.

 

"Sir, Jean said I needed to report to you."

 

d'Artagnan had gained confidence, losing the need to be tentative and make statements into questions. Although unusual, Treville stood up with the order gripped in his hand. He memorized the image of the young man, tall, olive skin with a faint beard growing in. Wearing the uniform with an evident pride that made him distinguish himself from the farm boy he had been. "The King requested you _specifically_ to carry out this particular duty."

 

Treville pressed the orders into d'Artagnan's slack hand waiting for him to clutch it.   "Take a moment," the Captain advised as he remained leaning against his desk to watch the emotions dance on the young man's face. There had been no way to soften what d'Artagnan was being asked to do.

 

"I don't think I understand."

 

"You have an order by the King who you have sworn loyalty." More was involved. If d'Artagnan succeeded then the King would know what he had done, what could be held over him, what showed that Louis had absolute power. "You should be gone a fortnight if you make good time. You cannot go in uniform as you may have guessed."

 

"No one knows of this?"

 

"The King and I will know when it's completed." Treville had to have some hope so he added, "When you return."

 

d'Artagnan nodded.

 

Treville put out his hand for the slip of paper, burning it in the candle flame until it licked his fingers. "I will tell the others you are on King's business."

 

Watching the young musketeer leave made Treville wish he could explain further about an insecure, childish ruler, but to say more would be treason. Anyone could kill a ruler who is not afraid to die. It was why assassinations were successful. The King had twisted that for his own need to feel dominant of his young musketeer. d'Artagnan had a will to live, but also understood his duty to his monarch.

 

(())

 

Why had _he_ been chosen for this mission? The Cardinal had spies and assassins. Surely, someone else with experience was available.

 

The road was not providing the answers he needed. A plan had to be developed, since Treville had only provided the name and order, not the how.

 

It was that question which triggered a smoldering of panic, causing him to stop his horse short to catch his breath. Gone was the blue cloak and pauldron that made him a musketeer. Instead he was a mystery, a murderer sent to kill the Duke of Savoy.

 

Once he reined in the panic he tapped his horse lightly, Buttercup understood her owner's moods and prompts. Although not wearing the colors of a musketeer, he still had to think like one.

 

Aramis would have done the deed from a distance, and possibly would have relished the act of revenge for the killing of all those musketeers five years ago. Porthos would have gone in quietly, killing the Duke in passing with a fork before going back to the shadows. It was Athos which left him indecisive. He could not imagine Athos in this position.

 

It would be a long and lonely ride to the border of Savoy. The time had to be sufficient for d'Artagnan to develop a plan to do his duty and return home to the garrison.

 

(())

 

The musketeers were assigned to protect the King and Queen along with honored guests. However, the visiting dignitaries from the Kingdom of Sicily needed all of their attention as they found trouble quite easily even amongst themselves. Aramis had to break up a fight between two of the dignitaries, which was leading to a duel.

 

The death of a visiting dignitary in the presence of the musketeers was frowned upon by Treville.

Athos, Aramis and Porthos looked at the stairs that led to Treville's office before they slowly made the climb. They had already discussed finding d'Artagnan and going to a tavern after their report was made. Since the young musketeer had avoided duty at the palace, then unbeknownst to him, he would be providing payment for their spirits as an act of camaraderie.

 

"Sir, there was an incident with the Sicilian party, but it was managed," Athos explained they were relieved by three other musketeers.

 

"Will we have the same duty tomorrow?" Porthos asked hoping to avoid the trying and frustrating group.

 

"Yes, until their stay is completed."

 

"Should we prepare d'Artagnan?"

 

Aramis's question brought a moment of hesitancy from the Captain. "d'Artagnan is on another mission away from the garrison." Treville closed his eyes as if to prepare himself for what would happen next.

 

"For how long?"

 

"Where has he been sent?"

 

"When did he leave?"

 

The three of them asked their questions at the same time which resulted in a sigh from the Captain.  "At least a fortnight away on a mission for the King," Treville said slowly in a way that clearly stated there would be no further information. "That is all. You are dismissed."

 

Athos waited a moment before Porthos pulled his arm to force him to leave the office. "This is what we want for him- right?" The large man said once they made it to the bottom of the stairs.

 

Aramis studied his stoic friend, echoing at least one of his concerns. "Of course, but that's a long time for a _new_ , lone musketeer."

 

"On a mission for the King." Athos shook his head.   Perhaps it was a simple mission and Louis showing king favoritism.

 

"There's nothing we can do about it." Porthos was the voice of reason. "We don't know anything and Treville's not telling."

 

Aramis uncrossed his arms. "To a tavern, I suppose?"

 

They knew each other well.

 

((()))

 

d'Artagnan thought it was wise to avoid main roads and villages or anywhere he would be remembered, although he purchased a hat before entering Savoy, picking one reminiscent of his father's.

 

Avoiding towns made for a lonely, quiet trip where he caught his own food; stopped infrequently. To keep away boredom he tried to practice swords, knives and shooting. Hand to hand combat was impossible to drill, but as he rode he thought about tactics in pretend battles.

There was no fanfare when he entered the borders of Savoy, deciding to be a traveler on his way to Nice where he was going to see about buying horses. Staying with a story he was familiar with and had previously lived was easier.

 

Deciding on moderate accommodations as Treville had given him a substantial purse to cover his expenses led him to a busy inn where he was one of the bustling crowd of guests. He kept his conversations and interactions to a minimum.   Needing information on the Duke, d'Artagnan frequented taverns and such, learned about the weekly Wednesday walk through the town the leader of Savoy used to connect to his people. On occasion his wife joined him.

 

This gave five days for d'Artagnan to think of a plan to kill the Duke. Five days where he needed to remain a ghost, a mystery no one would remember so he could slip away after the deed was done.

 

((()))

 

Athos found himself in Treville's office keeping his anger in check. Musketeers were known for their discretion, but also their ability to gleam information. No one knew what mission d'Artagnan had been assigned, which had Athos and the others worried. "You said a fortnight."

 

"At a minimum. The mission may take longer."

 

"Perhaps we can meet him. . ." Porthos started. He had been available while Aramis was on a delivery of a state letter, and knew their leader should not be alone with the Captain.

 

Treville's brows rose. "He's a musketeer. Are you saying you did not train him well?"

 

Athos gave a slow shake of his head. Like Porthos they did not want to discredit d'Artagnan's abilities. d'Artagnan had been trained well from relentless tutors though he still needed time to refine his skills.

 

"Good. I'm counting on that." Treville looked down at his paperwork effectively dismissing them.

 

They exited the room and the leader of the Musketeers listened to their footfalls while Porthos gave a weak attempt to lift Athos's spirits. Athos, Aramis and Porthos were missing their brother and Treville worried he would have to tell them about d'Artagnan's death if the young man did not return soon.

 

(())

 

Without the blue cape and his pauldron d'Artagnan had returned to being the son of a gentleman farmer. No one paid him much attention with a hat covering his face and curt manners. Using his anonymity, he collected what he needed.

 

Athos would have thought of a better plan, but d'Artagnan was unable to procure gun powder in a large amount. Any purchase would have required a license he did not have. Using most of what he had packed and some he had pilfered, d'Artagnan moved quickly as he saw the Duke start his walk on the main fare.

 

The wine bottles with their cloth wick were settled into a pattern. He lit the gun powder, then walked quickly behind the houses unnoticed to climb one of the roofs. He positioned his caliver, thinking of Aramis. His flint lock pistol would be useless for the distance he needed according to the musketeer sharpshooter. d'Artagnan had a moment before his diversion and studied the man he would kill. He could tell himself that it was revenge for what Aramis and the other musketeers had been through, but it wasn't. The Gascon had found himself to be an assassin because of an order by the King.

 

The King had commanded him and he would follow as the first bottle popped, then the second, which gathered the attention d'Artagnan required for his plan to work. Hidden in the popping noises, d'Artagnan fired. There was only one opportunity, and the screaming made the young man feel secure that he had dealt a killing blow along with the splash of blood from the Duke's neck.

 

In order to escape he had to move quickly. Porthos was one who used his wits to find an exit. d'Artagnan remembered to look unhurried, hiding the caliver to his side as he made his way to his horse. The people had been drawn to the Duke with the cacophony still centralized in panic. The guards would give him precious minutes because of confusion before seeking out the Duke's killer. Time was what he needed.

 

No one would come and save him and no one would know what he had done. For that he was thankful as he kept low on his horse.

 

(())

As usual the King schooled his features in preparation of the announcement. His satin clothes were in place, hair attended to, and then he thought about how he needed to look sad, but not distraught. When he was a child his tutors complemented him on his acting abilities.

 

Not even the Queen had known his plans. State secrets were part of a marriage, although since Anne's pregnancy he took her more into his confidences. Not about this, assassination was not spoken about to the fairer sex. The Cardinal had been in full support, Treville less inclined, especially with Louis's request of the young musketeer's involvement.

 

Treville followed orders. Louis had surrounded himself with good men who loved him like a son. He could see it. Being a young king he accepted wise counsel, allowed these men who had known him from childhood to see his frailties and weaknesses. On the other hand, he was well aware of their skeletons, some he had created. It provided him with control.

 

Others like d'Artagnan, younger than him, could not see flaws so early in the musketeer's career. Just the idea gave him grave discomfort. The only way to assuage the feeling was to exert some domination.

 

The young musketeer did not disappoint him. Louis hoped d'Artagnan would return, since there had been no delivery of the young man's head on a stick, the King took it as a good sign of survival as did Treville.

 

With the Duke dead, the people of Savoy would look towards their Duchess, his sister and her young son. They would look to France, and its benevolent ruler for help. Popular support and absolute power were best in preventing assassination.

 

He was pleased as he entered the throne room with Anne a step behind him.

((()))

 

Treville ordered the musketeers available after his orders were given out to join him at court for an announcement by His Majesty. Aramis had tried to read the captain's mood by facial expression, but there was no compromise. "It seems there is little rush so perhaps it is good news."

 

Porthos shrugged, too long without a mission outside of Paris. Boredom was setting in. "Remember the last time the King wanted our presence?"

 

How could Aramis forget the announcement of the Queen's pregnancy? "Yes, it was quite memorable."

 

"Wonder what it could be this time." Porthos tried do guess thinking of more and more crazy ideas to get them to laugh, at least to get Athos to grin. d'Artagnan was long overdue, but Treville would reveal nothing except to avoid engaging them in a discussion.

 

Porthos got the result he sought. "Something that does not involve the Queen, I hope," Athos stated, sitting at their usual table waiting to move out with the other musketeers.

 

Appearances at court were routine, but there seemed to be a festive air in the throne room with those in attendance.

 

"The Duke of Savoy is dead." The King announced after he had taken his seat and allowed the crowd to settle.

 

When Aramis heard the news he was shocked, spared a look at Treville to gauge his reaction. Partly there was relief at justice being served for all those dead musketeers. Still, it was unsatisfying, rather to have his friends then the Duke dead. It was an unfair exchange. There was still an everlasting sadness that haunted him.

 

"I wasn't expecting that." Porthos brushed against Aramis's arm, shaking him from his thoughts.

 

"It is a sad day for Savoy and France." The King continued with the Cardinal nodding and murmuring about offering prayers. "My sister and her son need the support of France. Treville, pick your best men to send my condolences and provide any support that is needed to the Duchess."

 

There was no doubt who Treville would be sending on this mission. Aramis would hide away his depression on the border to go with his brothers to retrieve the fourth. The mystery about d'Artagnan had been solved. A quick prayer for the young man's safety did not seem enough. Before they left he would light a candle and make an offering.

 

Athos's cheeks drew down in anger as his teeth ground. Porthos gave a glance between Aramis and their leader, settling on again brushing his arm against Aramis in comfort. They caught each other's eyes before mounting their horses, seeing the truth of the matter.

 

"We don't know for sure," Porthos muttered.

 

"Of course we do," Athos replied.

 

Aramis could hear the threat, the disappointment in the situation. They were soldiers called to perform duties at the whim of the King. Most were orders that were acceptable to one's sensibilities, other times it was a difficult swallow. Yet, these men had always found a way to make it palatable when at all possible- Bonnaire and Agnes being examples.

 

He found himself chasing Athos up the stairs as the nobleman pushed open the door. There would be none of Athos's usual restraint. "How could you? Is he even alive?"

 

Treville was nonplussed. Aramis admired the trait and wondered what it took to achieve it. "The King's orders need to be followed. You all know that. Has that changed?"

 

"No, Sir," Porthos answered for them all. Athos lips narrowed as if keeping his emotions inside.

 

"We've received no proof of d'Artagnan's death." The captain pulled a draw open to take out a tightly wrapped blue cloak. "I expect if you remain off the main roads, then you may meet and could pass this along."

 

With reverence Aramis accepted the blue cloak feeling the stiff pauldron inside. "We will, Sir."

 

(())

 

d'Artagnan tried not to think of what he had done as he rode through the countryside. When he became a musketeer he never considered that assassination would have been an order. If he had been told it still would not have stopped him from pursuing a commission. Why had the King chosen him?

 

It did not make sense and he had no one he could ask. Athos, Porthos and Aramis could never know. What would they think of him if they did?

 

This made him a killer, not a defender of justice. Surely, they would not approve. As he rode away from Savoy his thoughts sickened him. There would be time to push the thoughts away, since he had a long distance to cover. The mission took longer than expected, but with the intended results.

 

This wasn't a mission he could take no pride in.

 

It was only two days, but they blended together, remaining away from main roads and camping in the outdoors to avoid inns and the memories of innkeepers yet again. It would have to seem as if no one had been to Savoy. He avoided people on the road, usually unsavory types, taking to allow them to pass before continuing on. This made for a slower journey, but one of awareness.

 

So when he saw the blue capes it should have not been a surprise. They had come for him, making better time than him.

 

He had not been noticed yet. Circling around, he whistled, which was heard over the horses as the trio made their way. Aramis, Porthos and Athos pulled up, and d'Artagnan, garbed still with his hat, rode up to them.

 

"You're wearing a hat?"

 

d'Artagnan was amused by Aramis's greeting. "It lacks feathers, but you are welcome to it." With one hand he pulled the hat off his head.

 

Porthos came up next to him to grip the younger man's arm. "That hat is not fit for a musketeer."

 

Athos handed over d'Artagnan's blue cape, and the Gascon knew what was wrapped within it. His mentor jutted his chin. "Without the pauldron he's not a musketeer."

 

"Thank you." The package felt heavy as an unworthiness settled upon the young man. He made no move to put it on. "Did Treville send you?"

 

Aramis moved closer sensing his discomfort. "You are overdue, but we have orders to deliver letters and a message of condolence to the Duchess."

 

"The Duke has died," Athos added with his eyes settling on the caliver strapped to his saddle.

 

_They knew_. What was expected next? Should he react? He wished he could ask them what to do. "I see." It was a leveled answer.

 

"You are welcome to join us." Athos's horse fretted for a moment wanting to get on its way.

 

"Or you can return to Paris." Aramis looked to Porthos to say something next.

 

Porthos shrugged. "But, there is safety in numbers. . ."

 

Athos narrowed his eyes. For a moment d'Artagnan found them piercing him, weighing him. "Put the cloak on, d'Artagnan. You are a musketeer. Nothing changes that."

 

The fabric was rough in his hands, and taking the moment was frustrating his friends. Aramis pulled the cloak and with Porthos's help placed it on his shoulders while Athos took the pauldron from his lax fingers to attach it to his arm. He was humbled. After what he had done he had never expected kindness from his brothers.

 

To his chagrin the hat was still on his saddle horn. Aramis snorted. "That hat needs to be burned."

 

But it looked like his father's hat so he tucked it away in his saddle bag. Maybe he would burn it, but not today.

 

"Can you do this? Come to Savoy?" Athos asked d'Artagnan as the rode next to each other, diverting to the main roads.

 

The younger man nodded. Although he did not relish seeing the Duchess or her young son in mourning black that he had caused.   Another thought came to him, "and Aramis?" d'Artagnan said in a hush tone as not to be overheard.

 

Yet, Aramis was aware of his name being invoked. "The Duke's death settles the matter. Thank you for your concern." There was no reassuring smile, but the sharpshooter's countenance was not haunted.

 

"The King wanted his best men. Who else was Captain supposed to choose?" Porthos rode close to Aramis. The large man was protecting his friend.

 

d'Artagnan licked his lips as he thought about the King. He wanted to ask Athos if he or the others had ever received such an assignment, but swallowed the rest of the question. They could not answer.

 

"His Majesty wanted his best men as a show of power. If he could have sent the whole regiment, then he would have. He is a ruler, best remember that." Athos gave a sidelong glance to his riding companion.

 

Perhaps there was a question he could ask, "Have you ever displeased the King?"

 

"We've displeased Treville, but not the King as far as I remember," Porthos said, but seemed to be thinking about it further. "I think if we did then he'd have us hung."

 

Aramis had another sentiment. "d'Artagnan, your orders were not from displeasure. We are older than the King so he sees as soldiers first, but you are near the same age."

 

Athos moved as close as he could so the conversation remained private. "He doesn't want you to see him as weak."

 

So simple, but the understanding had been out of his grasp. He had protected the King that night on the road to Baron Blois, and seen France's monarch falter in fear.

 

"This discussion ends now." Athos pulled ahead. "I am sure Aramis can talk about himself."

 

Porthos grinned. For today the smile was not infectious. d'Artagnan was thankful for these men as they had easily understood the reasoning of the King. There was much to learn, navigate and comprehend if he was to be a musketeer like them.

 

The end.


End file.
